


Broken

by Carbynn



Series: No Context [5]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: AU Of A Better AU, M/M, Problematic af AU, Public Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Straight up rape, There Is Nothing Sweet Here, These Are The Warnings Please Heed Them, This Is A Miserable Story And I'm Sorry, Xerxian AU, slave AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 06:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13805508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carbynn/pseuds/Carbynn
Summary: Roy has done worse things for his country, he supposed, than adhering to Xerxian traditions, but even the systematic destruction of Ishval and the life-taking he had done there hadn't felt nearly as damning as it felt to press the golden haired boy down against the table-top and take him.





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> A horrific fic sparked from a horrific conversation I had with a friend about how much more terrible my Xerxian slave AU could have been. I worked very hard to make sure that Deserts Away was as unproblematic as possible given the subject matter and then I turned around and did this shit anyway. There's no hope for me.

It was days later and fewer than twenty four hours shy of Roy’s scheduled return to Xing that he was finally called for an evening audience with the king. He could have wept for joy. It had seemed to him that his first diplomatic excursion would be his last and that all the work he’d put in to climb up from the pit he’d started out in three years before would come to naught. An audience with the king, even if it came to nothing, was enough of a start that he couldn’t be faulted for failing.

He and his translator were ushered into the throne room by a veritable battalion of guards who split to line either side of the narrow walkway leading up to the base of the dais upon which sat a gilded throne occupied by an imposingly tall man Roy knew to be King Vasyklo. The crown he wore was interwoven with braids of his golden hair and bore impressive scrollwork that Roy only recognized as intricate arrays the closer he got, though the purpose of them was lost both in distance and Roy’s own lack of knowledge. He was an impressive sight, and the raw power that radiated off of him was unmistakable and, certainly, intentional.

“Your Majesty,” Roy greeted humbly in flawless Xerxian, pressing his right fist to his opposite shoulder as he bowed deeply from the waist.

“I believe we share a language other than Xerxian, do we not?” he asked in Amestrian.

Roy straightened in surprise. “We do, Your Majesty. I didn’t realize you spoke my mother tongue. I admit, this is a pleasant surprise.”

“I have found that knowing exactly what it is your enemies are asking of you often pays off,” Vasyklo explained, breaking into a wide grin. “I’m pleased to have the opportunity to practice with an ally.”

The uncertainty in Roy’s chest eased at that. For a moment, he was almost certain that Vasyklo considered him to be an enemy as well. “I’m honored that you count Xing to be amongst your allies.”

“What is that saying? The enemy of my enemy is my friend, yes? Xing and Xerxes share a common enemy, one that could prove problematic for both of us. I think, more specifically, you share that enemy, too.”

“I do, Majesty. It isn’t much of a secret, I’m afraid.”

“No, your exit certainly wasn’t a quiet one,” Vasyklo chuckled. “Some leaders would say that makes you untrustworthy.”

They were in delicate territory, and Roy had never been more in his element. “An understandable position, considering the circumstances.”

“I say it makes you more trustworthy. It makes you an honest man. You wouldn’t represent an ideal you disagreed with, that much is clear, and you wouldn’t speak for a sovereign with amoral intentions.”

“I would not,” Roy agreed, tempering steel into his voice. “I will not sit idly by again and commit atrocities in someone else’s name.”

“You are a man of principle,” Vasyklo said, nodding down at him. “I don’t know your emperor, but I know enough of you to know that he must be a good man, with good intentions. I will grant Xing the trade routes, and I agree to all of the terms you have laid out.”

Roy was a little taken aback. He had expected discourse, some back and forth and ironing of terms until they both ended up with half of what they wanted from the start but certainly, _certainly_ not today. He rapidly composed himself and fell into a deep and hasty bow. “Thank you, Your Majesty, on behalf of the emperor and on behalf of Xing.”

“I believe the trade routes will benefit both of our people, and I welcome the prosperity our partnership will bring,” Vasyklo said. “As a final gesture of good will, I have a parting gift for you.”

He gestured to someone near the door on the opposite end of the room that Roy had come through just minutes before and then even, measured steps of the palace guard came up behind him. For a single, terrifying moment Roy thought that something had gone terribly wrong but then the mass of guards came around the side of him and Roy could see two civilian men buried in the middle of them. They parted, allowing the men to step forward.

One of the men, tall and Patrician with a sharp jaw line and a high, yellow ponytail, stepped forward, followed closely by a tall, slight boy with hair paler than the man’s but just as bright. His eyes were a hazel green that Roy hadn’t yet seen in Xerxes and they seemed to be swimming with unshed tears. Roy barely had time to contemplate that state of affairs before the man yanked hard on a golden chain that was connected to a pair of golden shackles fastened on the wrists of the most arresting creature Roy had ever laid eyes on. Even in a room full of Xerxian gold, the young man’s hair shone with an eye-catching brightness. Amber eyes, alight with determination and fury, shone from his delicate face, browned from the desert sun and kissed with the lightest sprinkling of pale freckles Roy had ever seen. He was nearly a full head shorter than Roy but the strength was evident in the cut of his bare arms, although one of those arms appeared to be wrapped in six identical steel cuffs that spanned his wrist to his shoulder. The dull shine of a metal leg caught Roy’s attention next, and he spared a moment to wonder what sort of accident had befallen him before Vasyklo was speaking again.

“The advisor you met with yesterday mentioned your interest in our labor trade, and that you were disadvantaged in never having had the opportunity to partake. I have heard that your tastes are not as discerning, so to speak, as most western men, so I thought something beautiful would certainly please you.”

Roy had been so caught up in that beauty that it took him a moment to realize the implications of the chain and of Vasyklo’s words. The young man _was_ his gift.

He felt vaguely sick to his stomach.

“Hohenheim is one of my most trusted advisors,” Vasyklo continued. “He has graciously agreed to offer up his eldest son for your pleasure.”

The man, Hohenheim, yanked on the chain again and brought the young man, _his son_ ¸ Roy thought with a deep-seated horror, to stand before him.

“He is untouched and unbroken,” the man began in Amestrian. “Although he is well trained in the domestic arts. Edward has been working under my roof for nearly a year now and I assure you his skills are up to scratch. I will warn you, he is obstinate, and no amount of beating has broken him of his will but he knows the consequences should he think to defy you.” Hohenheim shot a very pointed look to the taller boy. Roy could only imagine, given the resemblance, that the boy was another of the man’s sons. “He won’t give you any trouble.” He held out the chain to Roy, whose hand rose to take it before he could think better of it. Refusing such a gift could be catastrophic, not just to his diplomatic mission but to the relationship between Xing and Xerxes in general. It was a gift he couldn’t refuse, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

“I am truly in your debt, Majesty,” Roy said, curling the chain around his hand as he turned to regard Vasyklo again. “I find I can hardly wait to retire to my quarters in order to make use of this most gracious offering.”

Vasyklo smiled almost too widely, and for a moment, Roy wondered if he’d miscalculated.

“I see you are unfamiliar with our traditions,” Vasyklo said, still smiling. “The Breaking must happen immediately. Allowing your slave time to resent you is a dangerous game.”

“The Breaking,” Roy repeated, his stomach sinking. He could only hope he was mistaken but so far his luck was letting him down. “I apologize, I am indeed unfamiliar with that particular tradition.”

“You must claim your slave before witnesses to cement your ownership.”

It was only years of quiet subterfuge that kept Roy’s face carefully blank. “Forgive me, Majesty. I’m not confident in my ability to… perform in front of such a large audience.”

Vasyklo laughed, loud and boisterous, and the golden haired man beside Roy started so violently the chain jerked in his hand. “Ambassador Mustang, I am afraid modesty does not become you. Your reputation as a hedonist precedes you. I trust the table will suit?” He waved a hand and one of the tables that lined the receiving hall, the one nearest to them, cleared of the seated courtiers almost immediately.

Roy’s heart was in his throat and there were a hundred sets of eyes on him. He felt as trapped and as hopeless as the young man on the other end of the chain. “I’m afraid my hedonism doesn’t extend to a steady supply of materials suited for such an act.” It was a last ditched effort and he knew it, the final straw he had to grasp at, and he knew as he said it that that particular concern would have certainly been accounted for.

And of course, Hohenheim reached into the sweeping folds of his tunic and came away with a small vial that he pressed into Roy’s hand.

The boy behind Hohenheim seemed far more distressed by the chained young man’s situation than the young man himself did. He was shaking outright and the unshed tears that had settled in his eyes were now spilling over his round, boyish cheeks.

The sight of his brother’s tears seemed only to infuriate and strengthen Edward’s glare, whose eyes were burning into Roy’s back as he led him across the hall to the table, only a slight tremble in the chain betraying his true feelings. He seemed to steel himself with every step, and by the time they reached the edge of the table, the chain was steady.

Roy was not nearly so steady, although his hands were as he set the little vial of oil on the table and settled a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “To your knees,” he ordered in cool Xerxian, and although he could see the clear desire to disobey written in those golden, glaring eyes, Edward sank to the floor with only a quiet huff as his metal knee made contact with the stone.

The hand not occupied by the young man’s chain remained steady as he worked open the front of his trousers and fished himself out.

Years of shared military housing and communal showers kept the flush from rising to his face, but the same could not be said, evidently, of Edward. He flushed a becoming shade of red that only served to stoke the fire in the golden eyes that were now locked on Roy’s.

And he’d done worse things for his country, he supposed, than rape. He’d taken thousands of innocent lives in Ishval – men, women, children, all burned to death by the indiscriminate heat of his alchemy – and taken the lives of people he’d worked with for years in his failed shot at dethroning Bradley. He’d compromised his morals a thousand times over to accomplish his aims, and yet, nothing he had done seemed nearly so significant, nearly so damning as pressing the head of his cock to that young man’s lips.

He dropped the chain and curled his fingers in that golden hair, tightening them just shy of too hard. “Make me ready for you,” he ordered, falling back into the role of the commander with ease, shielding himself behind it in order to detach, to hide the vulnerable parts of himself behind an icy exterior and pray that it would hold up against the heat of his self-loathing.

There was a moment of hesitation, a flick of those golden eyes to the sobbing boy at Hohenheim’s side that both assured Roy that his order would be followed and that no unpleasant surprises were waiting for him by way of the young man’s teeth, and the hot, wet heat of his mouth enveloped him.

“Breathe through your nose,” Roy instructed when Edward gagged around him. He struggled for another moment and for a terrifying second Roy thought he might actually vomit but seemed to find his legs after that, working up an unsteady back and forth rhythm that was messy and inexpert and just barely verging on enjoyable, although the burning hatred that met him in the blonde’s wolfish eyes was doing far more for his arousal than the blowjob ever could have.

Warm horror managed to seep through the ice, and Roy pushed Edward away roughly and seized the chain again, pulling him up. He struggled to his feet, this time not even daring to meet his brother’s eyes across the room although the boy’s sobs were audible over the hushed tittering of the courtiers.

Roy curled a hand around the back of Edward’s neck and turned him, pressing him face down into the table, letting as much gentleness leak into the action as he dared. The blonde was trembling now in earnest and Roy couldn’t overcome the pang of sympathy that cut through him. ‘Untouched’ likely meant ‘virgin,’ and this was no ideal circumstance.

Pointedly not thinking too much about it, he made quick work of Edward’s loose pants, pushing them off of his hips and allowing them to pool on the floor at his feet.

It was a consolation that the man had perhaps one of the finest asses Roy had ever seen, and he’d seen his share of young, bare asses. Roy tried to focus on it, to detach the sight from the reality of the situation, and ran his hands carefully over the smooth, golden skin, following the curve of it down to backs of the thighs and dappling his fingers lightly over the sensitive skin there. He dipped his hand in between the younger man’s legs, parting them and just barely brushing against his cock which, despite the trembling jumped at the stimulation.

Roy decided then and there that, if he had to find pleasure here, then his captive would, too.

He urged his legs further apart and reached for the oil, uncapping it and drizzling a bit over his fingers to warm it before very, very lightly rubbing his fingertip against the puckered opening he found between the round globes of the blonde’s pert ass.

This pulled a muffled gasp from the young man, the first real reaction he’d gotten since they’d started.

He slipped the finger in to the first knuckle and this time Edward’s reaction was nothing short of violent. He bucked and jerked like an unbroken horse and Roy reached up to press a firm hand to the back of his neck to keep him flat against the table. “Relax,” he said sternly, pushing back his desire to coo and soothe the way he would with any other lover. It wouldn’t do either of them any good.

He gave the man a moment to relax before pressing his finger in the rest of the way, making sure to keep a firm pressure on the back of his neck as he did so to keep him still. Roy twisted his finger, opening him up and coaxing him to relax before he deemed it safe to press in a second finger.

Edward’s struggling became a bit more furious and Roy was beginning to have trouble keeping him pinned. He leaned a bit more of his weight into the hold and twisted his fingers in his ass until he found that bundle of nerves that pulled a cry from Edward’s throat and turned his struggling into a high arch off the table, which Roy didn’t bother attempting to stifle.

“Good, isn’t it?” he purred, stroking over the spot until the blonde was a trembling mess beneath his hand, half-formed swears and, oddly enough, periodic elements spilling from his lips in whimpered cries. The murmuring of the courtiers had gotten louder, punctuated here and there by a quiet giggle or a low whistle that reminded Roy that he was still putting on a show.

More oil, a third finger, and a bit more teasing followed before Roy judged him to be open enough to take him. He pulled his fingers out, drawing another little whine from the younger man, and poured more oil into his hand to slick over his cock.

“Relax,” he said again, more softly this time, and pushed into him in one long, slow press.

Edward cried out, his fingers scrabbling against the smooth varnish of the tabletop for purchase as his body railed against the intrusion. It took everything Roy had to still, to wait for Edward’s breathing to even out and the cries to turn to soft whimpers before allowing himself to withdraw a little and press back into that tight, wet heat.

There wasn’t a prayer that he was going to last longer than a few moments, not with the way the younger man’s quivering was sending little jerking vibrations through every hard inch of his cock. Not with the ragged whines that escaped him with every sharp exhale.

Roy leaned over him, using his body to press Edward down into the table and curling a hand around a narrow hip to hold him in place as he upped the pace and began fucking him in earnest, angling his hips to press against his prostate on each inward press.

He slid his hand across Edward’s hip and over his smooth stomach before curling his fingers around his cock and pumping it in time with his thrusts, pulling louder and louder cries out of him until he arched hard against Roy’s chest and came across the tabletop with a cry.

Roy, overcome by the rhythmic clenching of Edward’s ass as he came, followed shortly after and collapsed for a moment, allowing himself to drape over the younger man’s back and bury his face in that fall of golden hair as he fought to catch his breath after the force of his orgasm had stolen it away.

Edward was trembling again, and Roy recognized the irregular shudders and the quiet, half-caught breath as aborted, muffled sobs.

“I am so very sorry,” Roy whispered against the shell of his ear, too quiet for any to hear but him, and pulled out of him and moved away. He straightened and tucked himself back into his pants just as the onlookers burst into an uproarious and boisterous applause.

Or, most of the onlookers had. He locked eyes with Hohenheim’s other son across the room, and this time, the boy’s eyes were dry and shining with something that evoked a cold, animal terror in Roy’s chest. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that, should he ever have the misfortune of meeting the boy alone, he wouldn’t escape the encounter alive.

“The Breaking is complete,” Vasyklo boomed from his throne as soon as the crowd’s noise had died down. “I must admit, Ambassador Mustang, you put on a very compelling show. Your boy certainly looks like he took to the spirit of the thing.”

Edward had still yet to move from his sprawl on the tabletop.

“I am sure you have plenty to do in the face of your upcoming departure and that you are… eager to retire with your new acquisition. Please give your emperor my well wishes and that I hope our paths cross in person sometime soon. I will have my advisors send your treaty to my rooms and someone will deliver the signed document to you before you depart in the morning,” Vasyklo said, watching Roy and his ‘gift’ with interest. “You are free to take your leave.”

“Thank you, Majesty,” Roy said, bowing deeply before turning his attention to Edward, who was still mostly motionless save for a few stray, hiccoughing sobs that he didn’t manage to suppress. Roy found the trail of the chain and wrapped it around one hand, drawing his pants up with the other before urging him to stand.

His face was red and tear-streaked, and the fire in his eyes had dulled to a glassy coolness that was frightening in its difference. “Come along,” he said evenly, urging the younger man forward with the chain.

An entourage of soldiers fell into step around them and escorted the both of them back to his rooms and Roy ushered Edward inside before closing the door firmly behind him and dropping the leash almost immediately. He fumbled with the keys he had been given and crossed as close to the young man as he dared and made quick work of the shackles around his wrists, letting them fall to the floor with a satisfied clang.

Edward looked like a trapped, cornered animal and the last of Roy’s resolve crumbled under the hopeless weight of his gaze.

“For what it’s worth,” Roy began helplessly, “and I know that it isn’t worth much, I don’t think you were the only one of us who was broken today.”

It didn’t even appear that Edward had heard him.


End file.
